


it's my party (and i'll cry if i want to)

by leov66



Series: courferre week 2017 [1]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Birthday Party, Domestic Fluff, M/M, Texting, courfeyrac is a suburban mom and thats the only hc that matters, i mean i dont even know how to tag this, so is Enjolras, whatever i guess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-17
Updated: 2017-09-17
Packaged: 2018-12-30 18:42:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12114852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leov66/pseuds/leov66
Summary: everything is going to beperfectfor their little girl's birthday, no matter the cost.entry 1 for courferre week 2017, the theme wasbirthdays. set in a modern au (obviously)





	it's my party (and i'll cry if i want to)

**Author's Note:**

> this fic belongs to a bigger au that im working on, so you can uhh stay tuned i guess?

He’s got a lollipop in his hair. It’s been there for long enough for him to have stopped caring. Its name is Poppy. He craves coffee, but if he drinks a mililiter more, his vibrating frequency will shatter glass. The cake is halfway done.

 

The cake is halfway done, and he’s only got thirty-eight minutes until he has to move on to the punch. And touch up on the decorations.

 

text message 10:42 am

rebecca: julien enjolras i will eat my entire fist if you dont come over RIGHT NOW

rebecca: i NEED your help

caitlyn: What is it

rebecca: THE PARTY WHAT DO YOU THINK

caitlyn: 5 minutes 

caitlyn: You pay me back if I get pulled over

rebecca: got it. just be fast

 

”Why do children love butterflies? Can’t they enjoy something simpler to draw with icing, I don’t know, triangles?”, Enjolras hisses five minutes into icing the cake.

 

”First of all, that’s a fucking moth, you ignorant slut. Second of all, how dare you, my baby girl can like whatever she wants, and if she liked DNA, you would’ve drawn that double helix if it was the last thing you did in your entire life.”

 

There’s no better bonding activity than preparing sugar-free, gluten-free, cruelty-free food and drinks. Parenthood is just so…fulfilling. Yeah.

 

He almost slashes his finger open while attempting to cut out something that remotely resembles a moth. As he’s sticking the Band-Aid on and cleaning up the mess his blood made on the floor, it suddenly hits him that normal four-year olds have no clue what a moth looks like, let alone point out shitty moth decorations on their kindergarten friends’ parties.

 

A pile of carefully arranged straws falls right on a angry and cursing Enjolras, and Courfeyrac laughs so much he has to stop cutting strawberries and gets hiccups.

 

text message 12:03 am

Hot Felon: i couldve died you couldve become a widower and you wouldnt even know

Hot Felon: i couldve just bled out

Hot Felon: enj says hi

is he your brother?: okay

is he your brother?: we’ll be home in 15 minutes please tell me there aren’t any kids yet

Hot Felon: thank god there arent

Hot Felon: yet

Hot Felon: dont text and drive babe i love you

 

”Who’s that pretty girl I see? Is that you, Alex? Is that my favourite baby Alex?”, Enjolras coons the second Combeferre walks in through the door with their daughter. The moment she’s on the ground, she runs into her godfather’s arms, squeaking excitedly.

 

”I would die for this child,” he mouths, facing Courfeyrac. 

 

”We’ve got, uh, twenty minutes ’til the first kids come, R will be here in a few minutes, hopefully. He called to say he’s on his way when we were passing Walgreens,” Combeferre says, obviously going through his mental checklist at the same time.

 

”This is too stressful, I need a shot or two. Five maybe,” Courfeyrac sighs in return. ”R can still grab some vodka on the way, right?”

 

”We’ve talked about it, no alcohol on our daughter’s birthday party until she’s old enough to drink with us.”

 

”Anybody asked for mental support?”, Grantaire exclaims, walking through the door.

 

”I need a fucking Advil, this is too much. Your husband is somewhere in the house, probably thinking about kidnapping out child. Again.” Courfeyrac makes a vague hand motion before kissing the dark-haired man’s cheek and checking the time on his phone. ”Thirteen minutes, everybody!”

 

The whole thing, surprisingly, goes pretty well. The kids are happy, no one gets an allergic reaction, every single of Alex’s presents is PG-6 and no parent says dumb homophobic bullshit. That’s new.

 

”Please, remind me to take her bowling or something next year,” Courfeyrac says that evening, curled up to his husband. Their daughter is sound asleep in her room, the house is finally clean and they didn’t fall asleep in the bathroom (it happened to Courfeyrac once, while he was brushing his teeth. They considered going to the ER but decided not to because they had no one to leave Alex with).

 

”She can’t even pronounce ’bowling’, honey, that won’t work,” Combeferre replies.

 

”We’ll hire a clown, then, I don’t care, just…no more house parties.”

 

Birthdays are cool when you’re twenty and stay up all night for _fun._ They’re not so fun when it’s your child’s and there are duties and all that jazz. At least they’ve got their movie Saturdays every other weekend.

**Author's Note:**

> 1) hmu on tumblr [@euphra-sie](https://euphra-sie.tumblr.com)
> 
> 2) enjolras is the most wonderful godfather ever and i will personally stab everyone who disagrees
> 
> 3) alex' full name is alexandria. i am not even sorry
> 
> 4) *banging pots together* **COMMENTS AND KUDOS KEEP AUTHORS MOTIVATED**


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